der of the day. We completed ours. It consists of an
excavation of one foot, then walled two feet with rails and logs, and
banked; covered with a double roof, a brick chimney in one end, and door
in the other, with the floor boarded. Such is our house.

Memphis, Thursday, Feb. 12. Slept in a wet bed, our door being open, a
storm coming up of rain, wind and thunder. Health worse than it has
been for two months. Diarrhea and pain in bowels.

Memphis, Friday, Feb. 13. A bright, sunny day. Everything looked
cheerful. Standing gun drill. Milton Campbell, 23rd Regiment, made us a
visit from the hospital. Health better.

Memphis, Saturday, Feb. 14. Six months in the service. Another rainy
day. Signed the pay rolls again, the first ones being objectionable and
returned.

Memphis, Sunday, Feb. 15. Warm and pleasant. Health good. Two horses and
three mules stolen last night. Guards doubled.

Memphis, Monday, Feb. 16. Was called on guard last night, second relief.
While on the last relief, the sounds of the drum and bugle were heard
upon all sides. A foraging expedition to be sent out, one section of the
12th Wisconsin to accompany, but when the bugle sounded most of the men
refused to fall in, as there were some sixty of the recruits of last
August, these having been by neglect not mustered in the U. S. service,
hence a remonstrance was sent to General Quinby. Meantime the men
refused to do duty.

[Sidenote: 1863 Sight Seeing]

After watering horses, G. Thomas, E. W. Evans and myself visited the
Elmwood cemetery half a mile distant. It contains forty acres and is
certainly a beautiful "City of the Dead", handsomely divided off by
evergreen shrubbery, with the spacious vaults of solid marble. From the
white obelisk to the little lambs at the heads of once sparkling
innocent babes, all was beautiful. But on one side were four hands
busily piling up the rounded graves in close compact. They held the
bodies of the unfortunate soldiers, averaging twelve a day. On the other
side were the like victims of the Confederate States of America.

Memphis, Tuesday, Feb. 17. Wet and cloudy. A dismal and dreary day for
me. Kept inside nearly all day. Burnt up all my letters which by this
time had accumulated, so as to encroach too much on the room of my
crowded valise. It was a difficult task. They seemed to be a connecting
link between me and the dear ones. I read the anxious words over, and
then with a sigh consigned them t